by Bonnie Vanak
Baylor looked relieved. “It might work. Still, we’d be better with you there in person.”
“She’s not going with you,” Nicolas asserted.
Tension radiated between the two males. Maggie sought to diffuse it with questions.
“Baylor, Nicolas, I need information. What did your people discover about this disease? All my research has proven inconclusive. How does the disease work?”
Her ploy worked as Nicolas lost his defensive posture. He turned to her, ignoring the other male. “Unfortunately, we’ve discovered little. We do know it acts much as the Morphs do when they kill their victims. They absorb the dying victim’s fear, which produces energy, and makes them stronger. This new disease eats the victim from the inside, absorbing their healthy cells and replacing them with the infected cells. It works somewhat like cancer, but it spreads more rapidly than most cancers. More like a virus. It’s probably injected as a virus, then takes over. Even blood transfusions don’t work. They make it worse, giving the invading cells a fresh supply of energy. Withholding food slows the process, but the victim could starve.”
Baylor cut in. “They created this new disease and decided to go straight for the heart of our pack. They infected our leader. If we lose Damian, I’m afraid the pack will scatter.”
“Like killing the queen in an ant colony,” Maggie mused. “The colony dies.”
Baylor shot Nicolas a look she didn’t understand. “The creation of the disease and infection of Damian was his fault. It’s why he was banished from the pack. The only way the pack will accept him back is if he brings you back into the fold.”
Like pieces of a mosaic falling together, Maggie saw the entire picture begin to shape. “You need me, Nicolas. That’s why you came for me.”
“I came for you because we need each other. Can you honestly admit that your wolf wouldn’t emerge in the future? I can teach you to control your wolf, Maggie.”
The only other choice was Baylor, who kept eyeing her as if he expected her to perform tricks. She didn’t trust him yet. Baylor hadn’t seen her horrified reaction at shifting. She was Draicon, yet not one of them. Not really.
Neither was Nicolas, she sensed.
“How could a disease be your fault, Nicolas?”
Self-loathing filled his face. “I taught magick to Jamie, a mortal, and broke pack rules. Shouldn’t have. But I did. The Morphs tempted her to join them and increased her powers of magick, and used her mortal blood to create this new disease. She then infected Damian.”
Something was missing. She studied his blank expression. “Why would you break pack rules, Nicolas, when you’re so devoted to protecting the pack?”
Broad shoulders lifted in a casual shrug. “I met her in New Orleans on a trip. We connected and I sensed the magick inside her, and decided to teach her to bring it out.”
Baylor gave a derisive snort, but she sensed Nicolas withheld information.
“If Damian dies, it’s my fault, Maggie. Mine and no one else’s.”
Something dark and haunted entered his gaze. Deeply touched, Maggie considered. Nicolas could guide her through this horrifying revelation. Maybe he could teach her to leash the beast inside her so she would never change again.
The pull of the full moon taunted her. Maggie hugged herself. Nicolas was the only one who fully understood what she’d experienced. She trusted him. He could teach her to control her wolf. Nothing more.
Maggie silently asserted her vow.
She would never kill. Ever.
———
Maggie spent the afternoon studying Misha’s blood and comparing it to the slides she’d made when the dog was sick. Her pet’s blood cells were fully normal. She also drew samples of her own blood, alarmed at a slight anomaly she had never noticed before.
Baylor assured her the house was safe. He did so after lunch, giving her suggestive looks and flirting openly with her. Nicolas kept pulling her away, growling at the other male. His possessiveness seemed at an all-time fever pitch and grew more intense by the hour.
This afternoon, she nearly had to yank them apart when they began circling in a fight position. Baylor slyly suggested Nicolas wasn’t really pack and had no right to mate with her. Instinct warned her these were two powerful males competing for the right to claim her. Her wolf howled in agreement. The strongest would prevail, and Nicolas might beat Baylor to a bloody pulp.
But the self that had lived as a human all these years disliked the male posturing and aggressiveness. Nicolas was far too dangerous and wild. They needed to release pent-up energy. So after they calmed down, she suggested a competitive game of one-on-one volleyball. Nicolas and Baylor reluctantly agreed. She played referee, delighted to see them sweat out their hostility.
Now, she rested on the porch while Baylor went into town to ship her blood to New Mexico. Nicolas was patrolling the property’s perimeter, checking it for intruders.
Maggie studied the ants scurrying on the redwood planks. She lifted her feet, tucked them beneath her. Only ants. Still, she wasn’t taking any chances.
A mockingbird landed on the thick green grass outside the porch. It chirped, looked around, then flew away. Just a mockingbird.
Maggie watched it warily. Birds could pluck out eyes. Peck at flesh.
Relax. Nicolas spoke into her mind in gentle assurances. There are no Morphs here.
Uh-huh. How would you know?
You can smell them. Think the worst smell you’d ever experience, then multiply by ten. That’s a Morph.
Cautious, she inhaled. Only the clean, fresh scent of rain, pine and damp earth. Her shoulders loosened a little. She stared at her hands. Healing hands.
Maggie always dismissed her ability to heal quickly from injuries as normal. She’d never suffered anything serious, no broken bones or severe injuries to make her suspicious about her body’s natural inclination to heal. Now she’d put it to the ultimate test. Their acid blood burned. Fangs ripped and tore. Claws shredded flesh.
Beneath a towering live oak, three black crows argued and fought like women at a bargain-basement sale over scraps Nicolas had left beneath the tree. Maggie stared at the woods beyond. It looked safe here. Smelled safe.
She didn’t feel safe. She wondered if she ever would again.
I’ll keep you safe. My Maggie.
His husky whisper did not assure. Rather it sent sensual awareness coursing through her. Who would keep her safe from Nicolas? Her own emotions in a tangle, she wanted to surrender to the erotic web he’d woven over her. How could one man have such a powerful effect on her?
It’s meant to be.
“Balderdash,”she scoffed. Feeling better with that brave assertion, she leaned back. Still, the pleasant, yet nagging throb in her loins increased. She wanted to satisfy it.
Maggie knew her own rising desire would not fade. She’d read the weather forecast in today’s paper. Full moon tonight.
And she feared, more than anything what it could do to Nicolas or Baylor, what that meant for her.
———
Early evening, Nicolas returned from prowling the woods for small game. Baylor was still in town. He shifted back into his human form, pulled on his clothing and stalked toward the back porch. Clouds scudded over the sky, driven by a light wind. Silvery light dappled the sugar maple where a wind chime hung. A breeze caressed the chimes, filling the air with gentle music.
He felt anything but gentle. For Maggie’s sake, he hoped she had retired, locked the door and wouldn’t come out until morning.
But as he reached the porch, he realized he was out of luck. On the outdoor sofa, Maggie lay curled up, one arm tucked beneath her cheek. She was asleep.
Nicolas ground to an abrupt halt and stared. Her scent swam in his nostrils, flowers and feminine arousal. She was hurting as much as he was.
He approached her like the prince in the fairy tale ready to kiss the sleeping princess, but feeling more like the Big Bad Wolf.
Dropping to one knee bes
ide her, he felt his body respond. His hungry gaze caressed each lithe line and curve, her rosy, parted lips, the stray auburn curl tickling her nose.
All mine, he thought in a savage rush of arousal.
“Caira, wake up,” he whispered into her ear. Temptation called. He surrendered, giving the lobe a gentle bite, chasing it with a kiss.
A tiny moan assured him she’d awakened. Maggie sat up, rubbing her eyes with a clenched fist. She looked sleepy and tousled and absolutely delicious. Hunger bit at him with sharp teeth.
He didn’t want food.
Only Maggie. Now. But… For a moment, he hesitated. Doubts kicked him. What if the exchange of powers occurred this first mating? Very rare, but possible.
It wouldn’t happen until they both reached a level of sexual fulfillment. Not tonight. Maggie was new to sex. He’d gently tutor her in making love first, but stay dominant.
The wolf on top rules. An ironic smile touched his mouth at the pack males’ old adage.
———
A soft tinkling of wind chimes awakened Maggie. She blinked, amazed at how well she could see in the darkness. Instantly she smelled him.
Her mate.
Nicolas hovered over her, raw hunger in his gaze.
“Maggie, I need you,” he rasped. “Come inside with me, now.”
The glint of the full moon on the wind chimes warned her. Full moon. Feelings she long denied surfaced. A wild, primitive call to run free. Wolf.
Wolf tore and ripped and maimed. Killed.
Fully awake now, she glanced at the silvery moon. Panic lashed her.
Full moon. Would she turn? Could she stop it, now that she’d changed? Maggie choked back a panicked sob. Desire burned in his gaze. Nicolas took a step toward her.
He’d make love to her, and then the beast inside her would be freed at last. What would happen then? Would she turn into that loathsome creature that relished violence? Everything she hated would claim her. Maggie felt real fear, not at the fierce arousal in Nicolas, but the beast inside her clamoring to be freed. To run wild, claim him as a lover and then be set free.
To kill, and injure. No! Shivering, she leapt to her feet and stared at the moon. No way to control this. She didn’t know how. Only one person she knew did.
Nicolas. The very man who wanted her in his bed. Maggie reached out a quivering hand.
“Help me,” she begged. “Nicolas, I can’t turn again…the moon… Please, I don’t know how to stop this, the beast inside me. I’m so scared. I can’t turn into a wolf. I can’t control this.”
Hard arousal on his face faded. Nicolas hung his head, clenched his fists. He lifted his head and then released an eerie, spine-tingling howl at the moon.
But when he stopped, the signs of desire had faded, replaced with a man fully in control.
“Maggie, Maggie. There is nothing to fear. Please, come to me.”
He advanced toward her, his arms outstretched. She collapsed against him, burying her face against his chest. No matter what else he did, Nicolas had promised to keep her safe. She trusted in that promise.
Even if it meant keeping her safe from herself.
“Please, please, I don’t want to change into a beast,” she whispered.
His hand stroked her hair. “Shh,” he whispered soothingly. “Hush, Maggie, caira. I won’t let anything happen to you. Look at me. Am I turning? Do you see a wolf here?”
She had earlier, in the fierceness of his gaze, the raw hunger in the beast burning to be set free. But as she raised her head, she saw only Nicolas’s warm brown gaze and concern furrowing his brow. Wind teased the edges of his thick dark hair.
“Maggie, you won’t turn if you don’t want to. There’s nothing to fear. I’ll show you.”
Maggie rested her head against his shoulder, feeling weary and spent. She believed him. Trusted him. The wildness gone from his expression, Nicolas rocked against her if she were fragile porcelain he wanted to cherish.
———
He’d almost done it. But the raging desire had been forced down when he’d seen her fear. Damn, he never wanted her to look at him like that again. He’d fight his way through a legion of Morphs first. Maggie hated and feared her wolf nature.
He’d leashed the beast inside, only to show her how tight control always won. Nicolas smiled grimly. It took all his strength to pick her up and comfort her, instead of sweeping her inside, tossing her on the bed, covering her body with his and thrusting deep inside her at last.
A sense of awe and peace wrestled with raw animal hunger. He stroked her hair, marveling at his newfound feelings. Before, he’d always used women for his own pleasure. Today for the first time, he put another’s needs before his own.
This felt strange and a little scary. But it also felt good, like he could sink into it forever.
———
Early the next morning, Maggie paced outside as Baylor walked Misha before leaving for the airport. Thoughts chased each other around relentlessly. Was she making the right decision in leaving with Nicolas to go to another safe location to hone her skills?
She went into the living room and stopped short. On the long leather couch, Nicolas stretched out. Lines furrowed his brow. He looked exhausted. She remembered how he had held her, and wondered if he’d slept.
Intrigued, she inched closer. His full lower lip eased open as he breathed deeply, one arm flung over his head. Dark lashes feathered his hard cheeks. Maggie leaned close, shocked to see a crystalline tear slip out of his eye.
She reached out with her mind, wanting more than anything to slip into his thoughts. Images flashed before her. Pain. Hurt. Loneliness. Nicolas felt as alone as she had.
Her heart twisted. Maggie touched the teardrop with one finger. Very gently she brushed it away.
Her breath caught as she heard Baylor and Misha bounding up the driveway. Nicolas’s eyes snapped open. He sat up abruptly, and frowned.
“Why are you hovering over me?”
Because you needed me. Intuitively sensing he’d resent her witnessing that tear, she didn’t dare voice the thought. Instead Maggie shrugged. “I’m waiting for them. They’re back.”
Nicolas bolted upright, fisting his eyes. He sprang off the couch as if fearing to be caught sleeping. Baylor came inside, patting Misha. But he didn’t unhook her from the leash. Instead he eyed Nicolas with a wary look. Nicolas folded his arms over his muscled chest and glared back.
Ignoring the masculine tension lacing the air, Maggie bent down to hug her dog. She stood, giving Baylor explicit instructions on Misha’s care.
“I’ll take good care of her, Margaret.” He gave her a speculative look. “And take good care of yourself. Remember, we are your family. We’ll always be there for you and you can trust us, unlike some. We would never turn on you.”
Nicolas said nothing. But tension coiled his muscles, like a wolf ready to spring. Maggie shot him a troubling look.
“I don’t play games, Baylor. If there’s something you want to say, say it and stop being so elusive.”
Instead, the Draicon went to her, leaned close and sniffed. Nicolas growled. Baylor stepped back, but kept his gaze locked on her.
“You haven’t mated with him yet. I can’t smell him on you. So you probably haven’t seen it yet. Ask Nicolas about the tattoo, Margaret. Ask him what it means and where he got it. That’s all I’m going to say. But be careful.”
He turned and led Misha back to her carrier, speaking over his shoulder. “Sometimes even the friendliest wolves can turn on you when you least expect it, if it’s in their nature. Remember that. You can’t change a killer.”
Chapter 10
She dozed in the car as he drove. Nicolas stole glances at her now and then as he sped toward their destination. His right hand drifted up and rubbed the tiny black eagle hidden on his nape. Ever since joining Damian’s pack, he kept his hair long and the tattoo hidden.
Baylor had seen it when they’d fought. He knew what it meant.
&
nbsp; Maggie did not. He hoped she wouldn’t question him on it. Not yet. He couldn’t tell her the truth, not until they mated and he felt secure of her.
He’d told Maggie only part of the truth.
Yes, he’d teach her to fight, to defend herself, and learn all about her Draicon heritage. After he mated with her.
The little cottage in the woods would serve as a love nest, giving them the necessary time to mate. Matings were delicate. A couple did not always exchange powers the first time. It took the right amount of emotional commitment during sex and intensity of orgasm to achieve a mating lock. Then they’d be joined together physically while exchanging memories, magick powers and emotions….
Weaknesses. Like Maggie’s weaknesses. Her unwillingness to kill, her gentle nature that cloaked the Draicon lurking inside her.
His fingers tightened to white knuckles. Maggie’s weakness, Damian’s ultimate cure. Time grew short. Even now, if they achieved a mating lock and exchanged magick powers, it might be too late to save Damian. Then there was the delicate matter of his banishment.
A grim smile touched his mouth. He’d dutifully obeyed pack law, but a raging army of Morphs would not keep him from returning once he felt certain of a cure for Damian.
Of course, other males like Baylor would challenge him. He’d need all his strength, and fighting abilities honed for the return. He could not risk any softness.
Soft, like Maggie. Gentle and giving, like Maggie.
For years he trained to ward off emotions. He must not lose control or show any form of weakness before the pack. He was Draicon, wolf, strong.
You are not really pack, Nicolas.
Baylor’s ancient taunt rang in his mind. Nicolas stole a glance at Maggie. If she knew his true origins, would she be as mistrusting as others?
During the joining process, he would stay dominant, not pliant and giving as other males did. It was possible. He’d quizzed another male, Kyle, before leaving New Mexico. Surely it did lessen the emotional fulfillment of the joining, but he could live with that.
